


Right Hand

by editoress



Category: Legend of the Seeker
Genre: Gen, General Egremont - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 18:13:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7184813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/editoress/pseuds/editoress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The only force more powerful than magic is General Egremont's job security.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Right Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Written mostly while I was watching season one, a tribute to my favorite who seems to have vanished. (More may be added after I finish watching season two.)

Panis Rahl went through right-hand men the way most fashionable nobles went through gloves.

Working directly with Lord Rahl brought enough glory to last a man a lifetime, especially as in most cases it was a notoriously short lifetime.  The closer the position to D'Hara's tyrant, the more it became like kneeling at the block of a lackadaisical executioner.  The axe could swing at any moment, and the sound of its descent was the first sign of Lord Rahl's suspicion.

What only a few knew, Lord Rahl's son among them, was that Panis had never trusted any of them in the first place.  He enjoyed keeping his men on their toes with an offer that was both punishment and promotion.  And he liked to keep no one too close for too long.  Only the strongest survived, and the strongest stood on their own.

On the day Panis Rahl was no longer standing, not even a thirst for glory could bring any of the Dragon Corps' upper ranks a step closer to their new lord.  The constant threat of death was one thing; the wake of political upheaval in the house of Rahl was quite another.

General Egremont, even then at a fine age to retire and with a finer career that would have justified it, was promoted.  And to the creeping surprise of the rest of the Corps and the palace staff, he stayed promoted.

And stayed, and stayed.

People began to think that what with current events, the whole of the empire might crumble around them before anything happened to General Egremont.

* * *

Darken Rahl made no secret of his temper.

Jason Clowell, lieutenant in the Dragon Corps, stood in guard position by the door and weathered the storm.  His feet were planted at attention and his expression was stony, but everything in between was feeling a little watery.  He flinched minutely when Lord Rahl paced within arm's length of him.

"A week without word from the scouting party," Rahl mused aloud.  He paced like a predator, slow and sure.  The bloodstained journey book quill twirled end over end in his fingers.  Clowell's gaze darted to the crimson inkwell before snapping forward again.  "But an unerringly _ordinary_ check-in from the outpost they were reporting to."  His eyes flashed.  "A familiar sign of interference from the Seeker, wouldn't you say?"

"It is suspicious," the general agreed noncommittally.

Lord Rahl stopped before the journey book and stared down at it, running his fingertips over his jaw.  Clowell glanced at the inkwell again, but it was impossible to tell how much was in it.  "This will be the last of his infiltrations."

"If the Seeker wants to distract himself with a backwater outpost, perhaps you should let him," General Egremont said.

Lord Rahl raised his terrible ice-blue eyes.  " _Let_ the Seeker do as he wishes?" he demanded.

Clowell realized that he was about to witness the end of an era for the second time in his not-yet-incredibly-long life.  He'd thought eras would last longer.  But at any rate he and the rest of the Corps would remember General Egremont with respect.

"Yes, my lord," the general replied, "if what he wishes is to keep far away from the boxes."

"And leave this unanswered?"  Rahl's voice was rising, losing some of its velvety tone.  "No—not now that I know where he _is_."

This was wrong.  For one, the conversation was still going.  Lord Rahl and General Egremont were still glaring at each other over the journey book—at any rate, Lord Rahl was glaring and General Egremont was staring placidly over his moustache—and there wasn't a drop of blood _anywhere_.  And Lord Rahl _didn't_ raise his voice.  He agreed with you very quietly and then he impaled you.

"A task force, perhaps."

"Oh, yes, for all the good _they_ have done in the past—"

It was an argument.  Clowell was witnessing an honest-to-spirits _argument_ between the Lord Rahl and one of his subordinates, and it was very possible that at the other end of it everyone would still have their positions and their heads.

Wonders never ceased.

* * *

The whole fortress shuddered.  In the main hall, the only room still secure in the whole of the stronghold, a dozen of the Dragon Corps shifted slightly to keep their footing.  They watched every barricaded entrance, swords drawn.  They stood between the enemy and Lord Rahl.

The resistance had picked up speed, but none of the Corps had suspected they would be organized enough to know where Lord Rahl would be.  The Corps was always prepared for trouble, but this was a magnitude they had not expected.

Another explosion rocked the stone beneath them, closer this time.  Shouts filled the corridors outside the hall, but one voice rose above them all: "We're here for Rahl!"

The traitor's comrades cheered, muffled behind the barricaded door.  "Rahl and only Rahl!" the man continued.  "The rest of you go home to your families!  There's no reason to spill blood for this tyrant!  Any man who doesn't want to die today—get out!"

Reinforcements were coming.  The question was whether they were coming in time.  At the moment, it seemed like unless the summoned quads charged within the next few minutes, it would be too late.  A series of unsettling clunks came from the other side of the door.  "This is your final warning!" the traitor bellowed.

In times like these even the strongest men, even Dragon Corps veterans, needed someone to look to.  They needed a source of security and courage.  A dozen soldiers turned slowly, gazes sliding up the main hall toward the seat of honor—and then slightly to the left, landing firmly on General Egremont.

For his part, General Egremont stood there with his hands folded at his belt and faced aimlessly forward as if the attackers hadn't said anything at all.

The soldiers widened their stances and tightened their grips on their swords.  They stared down the doors, daring the enemy to come through.

("What was Lord Rahl doing?" a smooth-faced private would ask Clowell later.

"Dunno," Clowell would reply, "probably looking to General Egremont.")


End file.
